


Identity

by Eissel



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Elicia’s a smart kid she sees more than what she lets on, Gen, I dump all my Team Mustang ancestor headcanons into this fic and no one can stop me, Multicultural families are the bomb, Parental Roy Mustang, Period-Typical Racism, Roy is Elicia’s Uncle/Godfather and you can pry that out of my cold dead hands, Roy’s half-Xingese and you can also pry THAT out of my cold dead hands, The mandarin isn't google translated but i don't claim to speak it, This is the only time i will acknowledge Sacred Star, Xingese Roy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 19:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eissel/pseuds/Eissel
Summary: Elicia doesn’t remember the exact day she noticed that her Uncle Roy was different, but once she did, she could never unsee it.Or: 13 moments when Elicia noticed that Roy wasn’t fully Amestrian(+ 1 where it doesn't even matter anymore)





	Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Elicia is slightly older (about 1 or 2 years, so when the series starts she’s in third grade) and also one where Roy is a tad less recognizable as the Hero of Ishval due to lack of photographs (y'see my Roy is camera shy and hides from the paparazzi). 
> 
> Also Xingese is obviously the Mandarin equivalent, but I don't claim for everything to be accurate, though I did try my best.

i. _First Sight _

Elicia has known her Uncle Roy for what seems like forever. The man has always been a constant in her life, ever since she was born.

One of her first memories is in the hospital. The light is harsh, and it hurts her sensitive infant eyes. Her mother attempts to soothe her the best she can, and her father is nearly catatonic with worry and stress. 

Then she feels strong hands wrap around her, and she’s peering into dark eyes ringed with a deep navy blue. The black is _ just _soft enough that it’s a welcome replacement for the harsh white light and she burbles happily. 

The words the stranger speaks are lost on her, with his strange manner of speaking, but she can feel warmth and that’s all she cares about. 

ii. _Discomfort_

Elicia has grown up with many _ many _relatives, most of which she isn’t even related to. She learns this in first grade, when she is told to draw a family tree. 

She tries to put her Uncle Roy and Aunt Riza and Uncle Jean and Uncle Kain and Uncle Heymans and Uncle Vato on it, but her father gently takes the pencil out of her hands and rubs it out. 

“Why?” She asks. 

“They aren’t related to us.”

“But I call them Uncle and Auntie!” Her mother explains to her that night that _ family _ doesn’t always mean _ people who are related to you. _

So instead, Elicia draws a big hedge around the tree, and it’s here where she pencils in the names of the rest of her not-related family. 

Her Uncle Roy is the first that comes to mind in this category. It’s very clear that he isn’t related to her father, despite his dark black hair and all too similar laugh and taste in food. His eyes are narrow and dark, and his skin is a touch paler than everyone else’s.

Her Aunt Riza is another, being Uncle Roy’s coworker and yet _another_ of her father’s friends who waste no time in spoiling her. Aunt Riza is her favorite of her aunts, despite the lack of blood relation, because Aunt Riza _ always _ ** _always _ **tells her things as they are.

Uncle Roy’s team are all another set of non-blood related Uncles for her, and everytime they come over it’s like a party. 

It’s at one of these fake parties when she blurts out something that makes the whole fun stop. She doesn’t mean to, but she’s only 6, and she doesn’t have a filter. 

“Why does Uncle Roy looks so… not the same as other people?” Her words are all twisted up in a first grader’s syntax, but her point comes across all too clearly. Everyone falls silent as Elicia waits for her answer. 

“My mother wasn’t Amestrian.” Uncle Roy answers, his mouth doing that funny thing where he smiles when he really doesn’t want to. “She was Xingese.” Elicia rolls the word around in her mouth. 

“Ching-ese?” She attempts, and the older man laughs. 

“_ Xing- _ ese.” He corrects her softly, and pats her on the head. Elicia is quickly scooped up by her father, who babbles apologies to Roy. “Maes, it’s okay. She’s _ 6 _.”

“I should’ve taught her better!” 

“_ Maes. _” Her father stops repeating apologies to Uncle Roy, who now looks very annoyed. 

“Fine.” He twirls Elicia around and taps her on the nose. “Elicia, dearest, you can’t just ask someone why they look different.”

“Why?”

“It makes people uncomfortable.” When she’s older, Elicia will look at her favorite Uncle and notice the angry red scars on his arms, but at 6 she knows nothing of the evils of humanity. 

“Okay!” She chirps, and wiggles. When her father sets her down, she pats her Uncle’s knee. “I’m sorry if I made you sad Uncle Roy!” She’s been practicing her ‘r’s and she beams up at him when she finishes, happy that she hadn’t stumbled once. 

“Méi shén me.” He says, and Elicia scrunches up her nose. 

“What does that mean?” He laughs, and Elicia smiles. All of her family laughs differently, and she loves each one. She like Uncle Roy’s happy laugh the most out of his laughs though, because it starts low in his chest and pools there before rumbling up. “It means it’s fine.” 

When Elicia looks up at him, his eyes sparkle and she happily hugs him tightly around the knee. The awkwardness is broken, and everything goes back to normal.

iii. _ Words _

Later that year, Elicia walks up to Uncle Roy and demands he teach her Xingese. 

“You speak two langauges!” She accuses when she marches into his office. 

“Elicia?” He looks up from his paperwork, and peers at her before getting up and hugging her. “How have you been?”

“Good.” She says, then hits him on the shoulder. “You speak Xingese!” She crows. 

“Ah, I do. My mother taught me.”

“Teach me!” 

“Did you ask your father and mother?” She nods. 

“Mhm! Daddy said it’s good t’ learn languages from a young age! And I wanna learn so I can read more!” He chuckles and Elicia leans her head on his chest to feel the vibrations. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll teach you.” She cheers, then leaps from his arms to race back into the main office. 

“He said yes!” She yells out to the room. Her other uncles look up from their own stacks of paperwork and her father grins at Aunt Riza from his position at the door. 

“See, I _ told _you Riza.” Auntie Riza makes a little sound at the back of her throat, and hands her daddy a bunch of coins. 

“Said yes to what?” Uncle Kain asks. 

“T’ teach me Xingese!” She says, careful to pronounce the name well. They don’t respond for a moment, sharing looks. 

“That’s good to hear Elicia!” Uncle Kain chirps, then pats his bench. “Want to see the radio?” Her train of thought successfully derailed, she misses the uneasy looks on the rest of their faces.

When Uncle Roy comes in that evening, he greets her with the lyrical cadence of his mother’s language. 

“Wǎn shàng hǎo!” He says, pausing to take off his shoes. 

“_ Roy. _ ” Her mommy says sternly from the kitchen. “In _ Amestrian _please!” 

“Elicia _ asked. _ ” He singsongs back, and it hits Elicia that Xingese sounds a lot like singing, and it makes her want to learn it _ even more. _“But if you insist!” He turns to her now. “Hi there Elicia.”

“Whan shan how!” She attempts, and pouts when it sounds nothing like her uncle’s smooth greeting. He chuckles and ruffles her hair. 

“You’ll get it eventually.”

She practices all day, even at school, and ignores it when her teachers look at her weird or her classmates laugh behind her back. 

Uncle Roy’s different, the way he speaks is different, but it fascinates her all the same, so she keeps going. Again and again until the syllables are perfect. 

“Wǎn shàng hǎo!” She greets one evening. 

His smile had been like solstice dawn.

iv. _ Appearance _

Her father’s running late today. Elicia knows this because her pretty pink watch has the short hand on the 3 and the long hand on the 12. Normally he is here when the short hand is in between the 2 and 3 and the long hand is on the 9.

She stands next to her teacher and watches as all the other kids are picked up by their parents. Then a pair of black boots strides up to them.

“I’m here for Elicia Hughes.” Elicia perks up from her spot next to her teacher. She knows that voice, it’s Uncle Roy! 

“May I see some ID?” She squirms and tries to pull away from her teacher. 

“That’s Uncle Roy!” She protests. Her teacher’s eyes flicker back from Uncle Roy to her. 

“Are you _ sure _Elicia?” She doesn’t like the tone in her teacher’s voice. 

“I’m ** _sure!_ **” She shouts. 

“Elicia, calm down.” Uncle Roy says, and he digs into his back pocket. Her teacher wraps her arms around her. 

“Sir-” she begins, but stops as Uncle Roy takes out the silver pocket watch he always wears on him. Elicia sees him start to offer it, when he blushes and takes out a small card instead and hands that over.

“Roy Mustang.” Her teacher glances down at the card and back up to Uncle Roy. “It says here that you’re Amestrian.”

“I was raised here. Is there something wrong with that ma’am?” She’s never heard his voice sound that _ cold _before. She shivers. 

“Ah… No Sir. But I can’t let you take Elicia just yet.” Her teacher whispers. Uncle Roy’s eyes narrow, and Elicia just wants to hug him. 

“Her father gave me a note.” He reaches into his pocket, withdraws a crumpled paper, and hands it over. “He’s in the…” He pauses, eyes flicking over to Elicia. “He’s hurt, and can’t pick her up today.”

“Her mother?”

“At work.” Her teacher frowns, and her grip on Elicia tightens. 

“Convenient.”

“Ma’am, Elicia needs to be back home by 3:30, and she clearly recognizes me. I’m a _ military officer, _I’m not going to kidnap her.”

“I didn’t know they let people like you in. I was merely surprised.” Uncle Roy stiffens. 

“Can I take her home?” He grinds out. Her teacher looks him up and down again, and glances back at the card and the note.

“Be careful Elicia.” Her teacher says, and gives her a little push. Elicia takes Uncle Roy’s hand, and buries herself in his side. 

She notices how stiff he feels, so she attempts to give him a hug. 

He doesn’t hug her back.

When they get home, Uncle Roy makes a beeline for the kitchen, and she can hear her mommy and him arguing. After he leaves, her mommy takes her aside, and tells her never to act like how her teacher was acting. 

“What she was doing, saying those things about your uncle, is called racism Elicia. It’s bad.” 

Elicia doesn’t think her teacher _ really _meant it, but she nods along anyways.

When she goes to bed, she traces a hand over the family tree she had drawn, and she remembers how gently her father had erased Uncle Roy’s name off of the tree. 

_ “We’re not related, but he’s family all the same.” _

“Mommy, why aren’t we related to Uncle Roy?” She asks in lieu of a bedtime story. Her mommy looks at her with sad eyes. 

“Because his mommy’s from a different country.”

“Is that why Lehrerin Reger said those things?” 

“Yes. Some people don’t like… Some people don’t like other people being different.”

Elicia looks down at the family tree, and traces over the names on the hedge. 

She wonders if that was why daddy had erased the names off of the tree with tears in his eyes.

v._ Sisters _

Elicia doesn’t see Uncle Roy’s sisters very often, but she knows he has them. 

When she met them for the first time, she greeted them with a wide smile and a bright “Zuì jìn hǎo ma?”

Uncle Roy bursts out laughing. She pouts. “I had it right that time!”

“You did, but my sisters don’t speak Xingese.”

“But they’re your sisters.” Elicia cocks her head, since if they were related, they should know Xingese as well. 

“_ Foster _sisters. They’re not related to me by blood.” Elicia’s happy to know that she shares another thing with her uncle, a hedge around the tree. “So they wouldn’t know Xingese.” He sounds a little saddened by that, so Elicia hugs him. 

For the first time, she notices that her Uncle Roy looks so much more different than his sisters. 

vi._ Culture Day _

For her Culture Day celebrations in class, Elicia is spoiled for choice. 

Her father is Cretian a long ways back, her mother is of Milosian heritage, which causes no end of semi-arguing over which one Elicia should do for the day. If she looks to her family hedge, her Uncle Heymans is Ishvalan through his great-grandpa, and her Uncle Vato is half-Drachman. 

She still finds herself tugging at Uncle Roy’s shirt and begging him to help her with her preparations. 

He glances at the large stack of paperwork and grins. 

“Why not?” Auntie Riza walks into the room as soon as he finishes. 

“Are you done with your paperwork Sir?”

“I’m not, I’m busy helping Elicia with her project. For Culture Day you see.” Auntie Riza raises a single eyebrow, and she can feel Uncle Roy sweat. Maybe this was why her daddy said they’d make a good pair. She nods to help her uncle out, and Auntie Riza lets out a huff and walks out, but not before ruffling Elicia’s hair. Uncle Roy sighs thankfully. “So, whaddya need kiddo?”

“I need to know about Xingese culture!” He stiffens. 

“That so? Well we can’t let you get shown up by those other kids!” He says with forced cheer. She doesn’t call him out on it. “I think I still have some old clothes that might fit…” 

Before she leaves with her daddy, Uncle Roy stops her. “Elicia, why did you pick Xing for your Culture Day project?”

“I want to know more about you Uncle Roy!”

“Elicia, you’re going to make your poor uncle suffer, you little scamp.” 

“Why?” She chirps.

“Your father’s going to pester me either about how adorable you are, or he’s going to whine about how you didn’t want to do Cretian culture.” She laughs and bounds out the door into her daddy’s arms, not missing the way her uncle tried to hide his blush.

When she goes into class, all dressed up in her uncle’s old clothes that are modified for a girl to wear, she _ shines. _ She rambles on and on about Xing, about the big buildings, and the people, and how _ different _everything is. 

“Your father’s not Xingese though, is he?” Her teacher asks. She doesn’t hear the slight tension in the word _ Xingese, _she’s too young.

“No, but my Uncle Roy is!” She chirps. 

She’s _ not _ too young to see the flicker of unease that passes over her teacher’s face. 

When she gets home, picked up by her visiting aunt, her daddy is crying, and her mommy is comforting him. 

“What’s wrong?” Her aunt asks.

“We got a call from the school, they said that they didn’t allow children who mic with _ inf- _” Her mother starts to say, but then stops noticing their arrival. “... They just said something unforgivable.” Her mother’s hard green eyes remind Elicia of the emerald necklace her daddy had gifted her mommy for her birthday.

“Well, maybe you should stop letting Elicia associate with _ him. _She needs a good Amestrian role model you know.” Elicia doesn’t know who she’s talking about, but she can feel the mood shift. Her daddy stands up, and Elicia hides behind her mommy’s legs. 

“Get out.” He says all quiet. 

“Maes, you can’t be serious! He’s not your _ real family. _” 

“Get out!” He shouts, and Elicia hugs her mommy tight. 

When Uncle Roy comes over the next week, she doesn’t tell him about her teacher or the fight, or that she’s switching schools.

“How was Culture Day Elicia?”

“It was great!” She lies through her teeth.

Uncle Roy looks at her all sad, and Elicia doesn’t know what else to say.

She just wants a place where people didn’t look at her funny when she said that her uncle was different.

vii. _ Black and White _

When her daddy dies, it’s the worst day of her life. She’s stuffed into a too small black dress and walked to the grave with her mommy. Her hedge family isn’t with them, instead they are by the coffin, long guns in hand. 

Elicia counts the gunshots in her head as she stares blankly ahead, heart aching. 

_ I wasn’t ready. _

_ I don’t want you to go. _

_ Please come back. _

When the service ends, she and her mommy walk over to Uncle Roy and Auntie Riza. 

“Kū.” Is all Uncle Roy says, voice barely above a whisper. Elicia shakes her head. She doesn’t have the strength. Auntie Riza drags her into a stiff hug, which Elicia does not return. 

She feels empty. 

She feels like nothing will ever make her feel happy again. 

_ “Disrespectful.” _ She hears someone mutter as they walk past. She thinks it is the voice of the aunt she hasn’t seen ever since daddy had kicked her out. _ “White, to a funeral!” _She pulls away from the hug, wondering who has drawn her aunt’s anger. 

She sees a white sash tied to Uncle Roy’s left arm. 

She remembers that white means death in Xingese culture. 

She wants to punch that aunt, wants to scream that Uncle Roy’s not being disrespectful, that he’s grieving too. 

She doesn’t, she feels too empty inside.

“Kū.” He repeats again. She meets his eyes, and shakes her head in a slow _ no. _

“Bù.” It’s not the most polite way to deny his request, but she doesn’t really care. 

“Esta bien llorar.” Her mother says, the whisper of the small smattering of Milosian she has held onto is harsh in her ears. The languages that swirl around her just serve to make her remember the times when her father held her and whispered Cretian phrases in her ears, laughed as he told her stories in the language. 

“_ I’ll let Roy get the Xingese in first, you barely get to see him as it is. I’ll have plenty of opportunity to teach you Cretian later. _”

She cries. 

“I miss him!” She cries, fat tears streaming down her face. “I want him _ back! _”

She wants it to rain.

viii. _ Bruises _

When she comes home bruised up, her mother tuts at her. 

“You shouldn’t be getting into fights Elicia.” She doesn’t care. The idiots had insulted her mother. Elicia wouldn’t let that stand, even if it meant punching a few people. Big Brothers Ed and Al, and Big Sis Winry had taught her well. Her mom sighs. “Espera aquí, iré a buscar la árnica.” She walks off into the kitchen.

“Who’s been getting into fights?” A low tenor asks from the sitting room, and Elicia perks up. 

“Uncle Roy!” She races into the adjacent room and hugs her uncle tightly. “I haven’t seen you in _ forever! _” He chuckles, and hides a wince, but Elicia is her father’s daughter and carefully draws away. 

“I see you’ve got a bit of a shiner there ‘Licia.” He’s taken to dropping the E off of her name nowadays, and she doesn’t mind it. He produces a small glass bottle. “Arm.” She holds it out obediently. “Your mom probably has her own ways of dealing with these, but I’ve got my own too.”

“This works?” She asks, the smell of the liquid irritating her nose. 

“Worked for me.” He drips a little of it onto her arm and gently rubs it in with the pad of his finger. “Now, we wait. So, why were you getting into fights?”

“They insulted mom.” She mumbles. Uncle Roy’s eyes go wide. 

“_ Gracia? _” He whispers. “I was ready to scold you, but… No, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Roy!” Her mother shouts from the kitchen. “Don’t encourage her!” 

“She’s just defending your honor!” He yells back, and winks at her. Elicia cracks a smile. 

“That’s what Big Brother Ed said when I told him.”

“Well I’ll be, Fullmetal actually knows what he’s talking about for once.” Elicia laughs so hard tears stream down her face and she collapses on the couch in stitches.

Her mother comes in, peppermint tea and the arnica ready, and sits her up, The fragrance of herbs fills the small room, and Elicia accepts the cup of tea with a small, sad smile.

“This isn’t normal is it?” She asks, voice tiny. 

“No.” Uncle Roy replies. “It’s not, but that’s okay. Normal’s boring anyways.”

“Your uncle’s right dear, now drink your tea.” 

ix._ Pocket Watch _

“I want to be a State Alchemist.” She announces to her classroom. “My specialty will be Cretian Alchemy.” Her back is ramrod straight, her countenance already like a military officer, something she’s picked up from years of being partially _ raised _by military officers, former or otherwise.

There is no room for doubt in her mind. _ This _ is what she wants. 

A union between the two halves of herself, the one trapped in a country hundreds of miles away, and the one that belongs _ here. _

When she sits around the dinner table and announces it to her strange family, she smiles. Her “older brothers” let out an excited whoop of joy, and chatter about going to Creta to pick up alchemy textbooks for her, while her “older sister” groans about how “yet another family member is gonna be an alchemy freak.” 

Her Uncles grin and jostle each other, and congratulate her. Her Aunts (she’s gained several more since the Promised Day) nod and tell her to make sure she works hard and blows all the other applicants out of the water. 

Her mother hides her tears with a smile. 

“He’d be proud.” She whispers. “He’d be _ so _ ** _proud _ **Elicia.” 

She marches into _ his _ office, head held high. 

“What brings you here?” His low tenor hasn’t changed, and Elicia is happy to see that he still has the lyrical undertones in his words, still retains the ring of navy blue around black despite everything. 

“I want to apply to be a State Alchemist.” She says, confidence filling her every word. 

“What makes you think you have the talent?” He asks, though the tone is teasing. 

“My father told me I could be anything I wanted to be, so long as I put my mind to it.” She says. 

“I hope you’re not planning on coasting by using your family name.” He grins. 

“I’d never dream of it.” He _ finally _meets her eyes, and she grins back. 

“Following in my footsteps. Man, when I pass on, he’s never gonna let me hear the end of it.” He holds out his hand, and she shakes it. He takes out a form, and she tucks it into a small folder. 

“Zuì jìn hǎo ma?” She asks, the words feeling rusty. 

“Well.” He responds, eyes warm. “I’m sure your mother already told you this, but he’d be proud.” 

“It’s confusing.” She confesses. “It’s not like I’m half-Cretian or anything, not like you or Uncle Vato. But people look at me and see everything else first.”

“I know.” His tone is filled with understanding. “I had to go through it too. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ll blow ‘em all away.” She realizes then just how hard her uncle must’ve had it, all those years ago.

She smiles, and reaches over to hug him. 

x._ First Date _

She walks home alone, gripping her coat close to her. It’s pouring, and she’s sobbing. She makes her away to a house she’s memorized the pathway to a long time before now. 

She rings the doorbell, and the person she’s looking for answers it. She launches herself into his arms.

“ ‘Licia?! What’s wrong? Weren’t you on your dat-”

“I hate him! He’s a stuck up, racist _ pig! _ ” She leans into her uncle’s warmth. “D-Do you _ know _ what he said about _ you? _” She cried. “He called you- He called you-!”

“Shh…It’s okay. I’ve heard it all before. No need to repeat it.” 

“He had no _ right! None! _” She sobbed into his chest. “I thought… I thought he was the one… He was so sweet, and kind, and funny, and respectful… But I brought you up, and he just had to open his big fat mouth!” 

They stand in the threshold of the house, Elicia sobbing into Roy’s chest. “Am I not good enough?”

“Elicia Hughes. You are most certainly _ good enough. _But the thing is, no matter how good we are, some people are just going to be like that.” He guides her in, sits her down on the couch. He brews her tea with honey and presses the cup into her hands. 

“I didn’t know.”

“Most times we don’t.” She takes a sip. Her bottom lip trembles. 

“He called me a whore. He thought I was your kid. When I told him… When I told him you were my godfather, he insulted dad.” Roy’s intake of breath is sharp and short. 

“I see.” 

“ I punched him. I yelled. I _ may _have alchemized his car to scrap metal. I’m sorry.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I’m sorry for the last thing.” She muttered. “But not about the others. He doesn’t have the right to say that kinda stuff. He doesn’t even _ know you! _”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Well, except the car, but we’ll deal with that when the time comes. Drink your tea ‘Licia. I’ll go call your mother.” He gets up, and Elicia is left in silence. 

She felt worn out, felt hurt to her core. 

She stared down at her drink, and imagined different features. Black hair, too pale skin, and black eyes. Silver hair, gray eyes with gold flecks, and olive skin. White hair, red eyes, dark skin. 

She stares at the empty space her uncle had occupied, and wondered why certain people had it worse.

xi._ Roi _

Elicia Hughes salutes her new Fuhrer sharply when he passes by her to sit in his chair. 

“Like the new office Sir?” She drawls, surprising everyone around her when she addresses him in such an informal manner. 

“Are you liking the new rank Captain?” He ribs. 

“I’m liking it a lot.” She grins. “I’m aiming to beat your score.” She says, and gasps fill the room. The other officers nudging each other and gaping at her. Blue ringed black meets green. 

“Good luck with that.” He snorts. “You couldn’t beat your brother’s score.”

“I’m ambitious, not _ insane. _” She retorts. He laughs. 

“Fair enough.” The other officers still stare, slack jawed. He straightens up, and Elicia wondered how anyone could’ve ever doubted his ability to handle the office. “Now, for our first order of business.”

He wore the uniform like it had been modeled after him, stars and stripes depicting the hard years of struggle. 

He may not have looked like the picture perfect Amestrian, but Elicia Hughes would be _ damned _if there was anyone better fit to be the Fuhrer of Amestris than her Uncle Roy. 

When the other officers finally file out, leaving Elicia and Roy alone, she smiles. 

“Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“You could’ve said no.” The weight of the pocket watch is heavy in her pocket. “I bet dad would’ve.”

“That’s the role of an uncle ‘Licia. To help his niece go behind her father’s back and bail her out when she gets into trouble.” She laughs. 

“Congrats again. Vive le roi.” He barks out a laugh. 

“Someone’s been studying her Aerugonian.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget my Xingese.” His eyes soften. 

“I never doubted that.” They stand in the office in silence, watching as the sun sets on the new Fuhrer’s first day in power: A man trapped in the inbetween, and the girl trying to traverse it.

xii. _ Tradition _

Elicia’s wedding is decidedly non-traditional. She means to celebrate her family along with her marriage, and that includes the ever expanding family hedge. 

She is in white, the ballgown style dress flaring out, making her look like a fairytale princess. She wore a tocado in her hair, a pretty thing made of alchemized silver and white satin to create a chain of flowers. Also in her hair are delicate gold chains that are peppered with white jade and connect with her veil. 

The foods are from every culture she can think of, traditional Amestrian cakes and meat dishes are plated alongside Drachman drinks. Milosian dishes find excellent homes next to Ishvalan meats and Xingese soups. Courtesy of big brother Ed and Al are recreations of some Xerxian foods as well, just to top off the food explosion. 

In the center of the controlled chaos is one dish that she had specifically requested be there: Arancini. 

She still has vivid memories of sitting down with her _nannu, nonie _and father and eating the stuffed rice balls while her mother was away. 

She begins her walk down the aisle, hands gripping the metal stem of her bouquet. Her satin clothed feet glide easily along the red cloth that covers her path. Her mother places an orange rose into her bouquet and kisses her .“My beautiful sunshine. You’ve grown up so fast.” She gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Go, we’ll be waiting.” 

Elicia takes her first step away from her mother, and takes her uncle’s hand. He squeezes her hand reassuringly, and they walk, Ed and Winry’s children throwing petals down the cloth. She keeps her gaze straight ahead, spying her fiance. He’s trying his best not to gape, but his eyes are wide and a blush threatens to overtake his face. She stifles a giggle, and keeps her hand tightly in Uncle Roy’s.

She spies the crowns on the altar, a gift from her Uncle Vato, and only _ just _ stops herself from chuckling. Her bouquet is held out directly in front of her, and she stops herself from crying as her uncle gives her away. He pushes her forwards with a “we love you so much,” leaving his lips. He takes his seat next to her mother and Aunt Riza with a smile.

“Will you, Elicia Hughes, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest asks after lowering the crowns onto their heads. It feels heavy on her head, but it’s a good kind of heavy. She dips her head.

“I do.” 

She sees _ him _ out of the corner of her eye. Nearly see through, but he’s smiling, green eyes wet with tears. He’s standing beside Uncle Roy of course, and Elicia smiles back. 

It may have been decades, but she was still her daddy’s little girl. 

She throws the decidedly non-traditional bouquet high, and watches as the bridesmaids scramble to get it. She laughs, high and loud, and her husband kisses her tenderly. 

When it’s all over, Uncle Roy finds her, camera in hand. 

“What’s this?”

“Xingese tradition.” He waggles the camera at her. “And a Hughesian one. We’re taking as many pictures as can fit in the album.” She’s crying, knowing that he knows how much this means to her. 

As she poses with her husband, she doesn’t hide her tears. 

“Sir, shouldn’t she-” he starts to say, but her uncle quickly cuts him off. 

“These aren’t pictures for a photoshoot young man, these are meant to show reality. If the reality is that she’s crying her heart out, then that’s the photo we take.” It stuns her poor husband into silence, and the flash goes off. 

When they crowd into their wedding car, her husband turns to her. 

“It was strange, the reception. But I liked it.” Elicia’s eyes widen. She hadn’t even considered how abnormal it would look to someone unfamiliar with the multicultural storm of Elicia’s life. As she looks into his eyes though, Elicia decides that she doesn’t care. 

Her fingers tighten their purchase on the photo album.

xiii. _ Stories _

When her husband reads to their children, he retells traditional Amestrian tales. When Elicia reads to her children, she tells longs fanciful stories from other places. She whispers to them in different languages, determined to keep a hold on her _ differentness. _

She confesses that she’s worried that they might forget to her beloved uncle. 

“Oh ‘Licia, don’t you see?” He asks her, and she confesses sorrowfully that she does not.

“You’re doing a great job already. Do you know how many kids grow up in Amestris mixed? Not many. Do you know _ how many _ of those barely know anything of their home culture? I was an anomaly ‘Licia.” She laughs, because _ of course. _

“Oh Uncle Roy.” She sighs. “Of course you are.” She presses a kiss to his head, and then draws back. His hair is shot through with silvery hairs, his time as Fuhrer and President clearly having taken a toll. Somehow, he still looks just the same as how she remembers him, navy blue ringed black and all. 

“What’s _ that _supposed to mean?” He grumbles as she laughs. 

“Just that you didn’t need to tell me that you were different. I’ve always known that.” She looks at him kindly. “Maybe I never really expressed it in the best of ways… But I knew, and I loved that.”

“You, Elicia Hughes, are truly one of a kind.” She smiles, and takes a seat beside him, and they watch the sunset together. Her husband calls her later, with just a reminder to get home before 8 so that she can read the kids a bedtime story since it’s her night to do that.

Her family is very much non-traditional. 

Elicia likes it that way.

+1 - _ Gone _

Elicia stands at the gravestone in all white. Her husband had attempted to talk her out of it, but she had snapped that her uncle would’ve hated a traditional funeral. She shoved the will into his face, the words practically leaping off the page. 

“_ I want to be buried like my ancestors were. _”

People see the reception and whisper. 

She doesn’t care. 

She traces her hand over the tombstone. 

_ Roy Mustang _

_ 1885 - 1964 _

_ Beloved father, leader, and friend _

The simple inscription to make her cry. It doesn’t capture the whole of what he was, doesn’t capture all he had been. A gloved hand lands on her shoulder. 

“C’mon Elicia.” Ed’s voice is rough from crying, and she stares at him with blurry vision. “We should go.” 

“Not yet.” She whispers. “Not yet.” Al and Winry wander over as well. 

“He lived a good life Elicia.” Al whispers. Winry nods, her eyes suspiciously bright. 

“Not yet.” She repeats. “_ Not yet. _” She takes in a deep breath, and stands up straight. “Hòu huì yǒu qī.” She forces out, the words tumbling over each other. Al’s intake of breath is sharp and short. 

“I didn’t know you spoke Xingese Elicia.”

“He taught me. I just didn’t have anyone to speak it with really.” With that, they all take one last look at the gravestone, and leave. “It’s not fair. After all this time… God, _ after all this time. _” She rambles as they walk. 

She’s not paying attention when she stumbles and nearly knocks a kid over. Ed yanks her back before she can actually hit him, but the boy startles and falls over. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

When she reaches down to comfort him, he peers up at her, and she gasps. 

An endless expanse of black stares up at her. She quickly covers up her shock, and assesses the kid. His hair is raven black, and the skin is a touch paler than most Amestrian tones. 

“Nǐ hǎo.” It’s a gamble, she knows, but the kid hasn’t said a word and he’s trembling. “Nǐ jiào shén me?” His eyes light up. 

“Liang Xia.” _ Grand Conquers of the West. _She chuckles, what a name. 

“Nǐ huì bù huì jiǎng yǔ?” She asks, and he shakes his head. She turns to her companions. “He doesn’t speak Amestrian.” Ed barked a laugh. 

“We kinda figured Elicia. Well, we gotta find his parent-” He’s cut off by the arrival of three people, two men and a woman. The Amestrian looking man points to their group and they rush over. 

“Thank you!” The woman cries, and scoops the kid up. “Thank you, we speak...” she struggles to find the words. “Little Amestrian. We thought we had lost him.” 

“We really didn’t do much.” Al demurs. “Elicia did most of the work.” The lady’s brows furrow, and Al realizes his mistake. “Bùyòng xiè.” He waves off their barrage of thanks again, and they hand the child over. The remaining man sighs as the couple walk off. 

“Thank God, I was scared we wouldn’t find him, especially since they couldn’t speak a lot of Amestrian.” He turns to them, brown eyes sparkling with kindness. “Thank you all so much for your help.” Elicia beams. 

“It was no problem really.” She stares after the family, and back to the kind hearted man. “I’m glad there are people like you in the world. Helping people even when they look nothing like you.” 

“My parents raised me well.” He deflects. “I should get going.” He is gone in the next second, and they smile. 

Their world wasn’t perfect, the looks they got as they continued travelling through the streets are evidence enough of that. 

But when Elicia gets home, with her husband holding her in a tight embrace, whispering words of comfort and sympathy in her ear, and her children babble up at her in Amestrian, Xingese, Cretian and so many more… 

She knows it’s _ changing, _and for now, that’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
Aerugonian - French  
Vive le roi - Long live the king
> 
> Amestrian - German  
Lehrerin - Teacher
> 
> Milosian - Spanish  
Esta bien llorar - It's okay to cry  
Espera aquí, iré a buscar la árnica - Wait here, I'll go get the arnica
> 
> Cretaian - Sicilian  
Nannu - Grandfather  
Nonie - Grandmother 
> 
> Xingese - Mandarin  
Méi shén me - It's no big deal/It's okay/It's fine  
Wǎn shàng hǎo - Good evening  
Zuì jìn hǎo ma? - Have you been well lately?  
Kū - Cry  
Bù - No  
Hòu huì yǒu qī - Farewell  
Nǐ hǎo - Hello  
Nǐ jiào shén me? - What is your name?  
Nǐ huì bù huì jiǎng yǔ? - Can you speak?  
Bùyòng xiè - You're welcome/No thanks needed  
Liang - Conquerors of the West  
Xia - "summer, great, grand" or "rosy clouds"


End file.
